


Kicks Like a Sleep Twitch

by blueabsinthe



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Public Sex, Tampa Bay Lightning, delayed gratification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 19:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueabsinthe/pseuds/blueabsinthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate needs a helping hand to get over his fear of flying. Matt is all too willing to oblige.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kicks Like a Sleep Twitch

**Author's Note:**

> So, Nate tweeted about heading off to compete in the IIHF tournament, which led to boltschick2612 and me wondering what Nate and Matt could have possibly gotten up to. This is the end result. 
> 
> Title is lyrics from the song _Papillon_ by The Editors.

Nate isn't exactly sure what wakes him from a rather restless sleep, only that his knuckles are bone white as they grip the armrest, and he jumps as the plane hits a pocket of turbulence. He tries to play off his uneasiness as just a reflex from being awoken, but he hears Matt shift next to him.

Matt's eyes are remote and cool as he blinks and awakens, eyeing Nate curiously. "Something wrong, man?"

Nate shakes his head, doing his best to hide his discomfort from Matt's prying eyes. The last thing he wanted was his absolutely asinine fear of flying to be revealed, regardless of how tight his friendship was with Matt. Usually, he was absolutely exhausted on team trips, that he could just sleep like the dead until they landed. No muss, no fuss. 

Of course, the plane picks that exact moment to shake, and Nate curses, hands gripping the armrest tighter. He vaguely registers as Matt starts chuckling next to him, and he snaps his head up to shoot Matt a death glare.

"You're fucking shitting me, right? The so-called 'Alaskan Assassin' is scared of flying?" Matt asks, as he tries to quell the laughter threatening to escape his throat.

"I'm not!" Nate insists, doing his best to hide how tight his voice got in that instant. "I just …" his voice trails off as another wave of turbulence rocks the plane, and he grips his seat harder.

Matt's lip twitches with amusement as he watches Nate's eyes dart frantically around him. 

"You totally are." Matt sighs and shifts closer, fingertips curling around Nate's wrist, in an attempt to get Nate to relax his grip on the armrest. "Honestly, Nate, you're not fooling me." 

Nate punches Matt's arm, and glares at him. "Fucker," he hisses. "I'm not scared." 

Matt throws a blanket across Nate's lap. "Relax, man. It's not like I'm going to rat you out to anyone." He leans in, mouth close to Nate's ear. "It's actually kinda cute."

"I am this close to smacking you, you know that?" Nate hisses back, and lets out a soft growl of frustration as he realizes he is too wound up to even bother trying to fall asleep again. 

He tries anyway. Anything to get his mind off of the look Matt probably had in his eyes at that current moment. Nate almost doesn't register when he feels Matt slide a hand under the blanket, palm pressing against the crotch of his pants. 

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Nate muttered. 

"Taking your mind off of the flight," Matt replied, before he managed to get Nate's belt and fly undone.

"You've lost your mind," Nate said, and bit on his bottom lip as Matt stroked him through his boxers. 

Nate tried to focus on anything else besides how good Matt's hand felt on his cock. This was the absolute worst possible place for him to get a raging hard-on. Of course, he picked that exact moment to glance over at Matt. Matt's fiery blue eyes intense and focused as they met and held Nate's coffee-bean-brown ones. Nate felt all the blood rush to his dick then.

_Jesus fuck. Get a fucking grip, Nate._

"It's just a little quid pro quo," Matt says simply. 

"And what do I get out of this?" 

"I'm sure you can figure it out." Matt rubs his palm hard over Nate's dick for emphasis. "A little help here would be nice," he whispers, waiting for Nate to lift his hips slightly, before he manages to slide his boxers down slightly. 

Nate bites his bottom lip to keep from saying Matt's name. "You are a fucking tease," he hisses, and nearly bites through his bottom lip as he feels Matt's fingers curl around his shaft. "Fucking hell, Matt. Shit … yes, keep doing that." 

Matt manages to keep his face humourless as he leans in, mouth over top of Nate's ear. "I'd suggest keeping it down, unless you really do feel like having the entire plane know that I have my hand on your dick."

"You really want to test my patience now?" Nate says, voice tight, his knuckles white on the armrest. 

Matt just chuckles, his hand moving in a perfect rhythm over Nate. Nate's leaking precome by the time Matt presses his thumb against the tip, spreading the slickness down Nate's cock. "Think of it as a preview of coming attractions."

"I'm going to hold you to that," Nate says, his teeth gritted, hands gripping the armrest tighter.

"I hope you do," Matt whispers. "I know how much you're dying to fuck me. It's driving you crazy that you can't right now." 

"You said it, not me," Nate says, trying his best not to jack his hips up into Matt's hand, as it moves over his flesh. "Fucking hell, that feels good." 

Matt licked the shell of Nate's ear. "You're thinking about how badly you want to fuck me, aren't you? You're thinking about how I'm going to taste as you slide your mouth over my dick." He laughed softly as he heard Nate curse. "Seriously, man, keep it down." 

Matt, being the infuriating asshole he is, jerks Nate hard two more times, before his movements stop. Nate lets out a volley of curse words under his breath and punches Matt's arm weakly. 

"Keep it down, man," Matt chastises, before he glances around to make sure no one has heard them. 

"This is all your fucking fault," Nate snaps, biting his bottom lip, and leaning his head back against the seat as Matt resumes his strokes. 

"Seriously," Matt starts, "if you don't keep it down, I'll stop." 

"You would do that too," Nate hissed, voice all fucked up. "Especially when I'm so fucking close."

Matt sighed. "You can be as loud as you want when we get to the hotel," he said, an underlying tone of promise skirting the edges of his voice. He stroked Nate faster, watching the war rage on in Nate's eyes as he struggled for some kind of control. "Come on, Nate," he whispered. 

Nate screwed his eyes tightly shut, teeth biting down hard on his bottom lip. His fingers have a death grip on the armrests. Matt's strokes are with purpose this time, slick skin against slick skin as he continues to drive Nate mad with the prospect of what was to come. He barely hears the dull roar of the plane's jet engines over the roar in his ears, and Matt's hushed voice as he whispers in his ear.

Heat pools in his abdomen, and when Matt does something absolutely mind-numbing with his wrist and thumb to the head of his dick, it is nearly Nate's undoing. It takes what little willpower he has left not to buck his hips up into Matt's awaiting hand. Nate reaches out and grabs Matt's shoulder. "Goddamnit!" Nate chokes out, voice all fucked up. 

Nate vaguely registers Matt saying something, but he may as well have been speaking in some foreign dialect for all the good it did, as he finally lets himself fall over the edge. He nearly bites through his bottom lip, the absolutely obscene moan dying on his lips as he spills hotly over Matt's hand. 

His body was still buzzing as Matt finally slid his fingers from him, smirking at him in satisfaction. "You're welcome."

"I am going to fuck you so hard when we get to the hotel," Nate practically growled as he worked his pants back up. 

Matt gives a short, muffled bark of laughter and tosses a tissue to him. "I have no doubt you will."


End file.
